The Circle of Raziel
by TheEternalDaylightingRanger
Summary: The Shadowhunter Academy is back in session and Jocelyn plans to avoid Valentine Morgenstern and his little "cult" like the plague. But when Luke is befriended by the Circle's charming, sociable leader, Jocelyn reluctantly becomes a regular at the meetings. As the Circle changes, Jocelyn notices a change in herself as well: whether good or bad has yet to be determined. (1984)
1. Chapter 1

**Sooooo I'm back! Kind of. I don't know how the rest of this semester is going to go for me, but I have another 18,000 words written of this story. This story is pretty much just my headcannons of the Circle Era. I'm having a lot of fun writing this so far and I hope you enjoy it!**

 **-Laur**

Jocelyn Fairchild sat on the narrow footman bench of her family's carriage. Through the wooden walls, Jocelyn could hear the comforting muffled sound of Adele and Granville Fairchild's, along with Amatis and Luke's gentle voices in the mix. Having Amatis and Luke ride with them was wonderful, but Jocelyn found the interior to be rather crowded and stuffy.

It felt like such a waste when it was a perfect September day. In the shadowy foliage of Brocelind forest, she could hear the sound of rodents rustling in the underbrush, the trees farther behind them fluttered in a cool breeze and the branches waving good bye to her. She could even hear the heavy breathing of the perspiring horses up front. Her fingers clenched together, wishing that she had an easel propped in front of her and a paintbrush in hand now. Despite its peaceful beauty, Jocelyn couldn't count the number of times her parents had come back, bloodied and bruised, from the depths of this forest after a small scuffle with a vampire clan, or a short battle with a werewolf pack. Nothing would dare attack that day however: all throughout Idris families, rich and poor, would be gathering at the Academy to drop off their children for yet another year of schooling.

When the carriage lurched to a stop suddenly, Jocelyn stood up on the bench to look for what had caused them to pause. The two brown horses pawed the ground impatiently as one of the doors to the carriage swung open. Jocelyn's frown turned into a wide grin as she saw Luke hop out. He raised his eyebrows in response to the childish enthusiasm of Jocelyn's beckoning and came around to where Jocelyn stood.

For a moment, Jocelyn revelled in the fact that she towered over him. "Finally decided to join me?"

Luke shook his shaggy brown head. "No, I actually was fancying a tinkle in woods is all."

Jocelyn scowled at him, folding her arms across her chest. "That's disgusting."

"It's what I'll be doing for the rest of the year. You really think I'm going to use the toilets at the school?" Luke shuddered and planted both elbows on the bench to try lifting himself onto the bench and push his stomach onto the board, but to no avail. Luke stumbled down to the ground, frowning, and tried to heave himself further up, but in one ungraceful movement, fell down in the dirt path.

Despite the hurt expression on Luke's face, Jocelyn laughed at him. "Come on Luke, it's not that hard. I made it up just fine, and I'm _much_ smaller than you."

"You know, you're a terrible motivator." Luke scowled up at her, brushing off his jeans. He lifted an arm up to her, shaking it expectantly. "Just pull me up."

Jocelyn shook her head. "You can do it Luke, you just need . . . you need motivation!"

"Didn't I just _say_ , that you're terrible at motivation?" Luke growled, trying to make the four foot jump again.

"You need external forces to help you." Jocelyn concluded, standing up from where she'd been squatting.

"A simple hand would suffice." grunted an annoyed Luke, but Jocelyn wasn't listening.

"Oy! Arnold! You can carry on now!" Jocelyn shouted to the Fairchild's mundane servant driving the horses.

"Alright, Miss!" he shouted back, and she watched in satisfaction as he shook the reins and the horses started up again.

Luke's already red face turned the shade of a tomato as the carriage took off without him. "Jocelyn, you're insane!" he shouted at her, fast walking to keep up with the pace of the ever-quickening horses.

"I suggest a running start." Jocelyn called, holding onto the smooth handle so that she could face him as the dirt path began to descend downhill.

"I hate you!" Luke called back, beginning to run up closer and closer to the carriage.

Jocelyn smirked and looked behind her, where the steep downhill path ended soon, a stream intersected the road, and then an uphill ascent would begin. If Luke could hardly keep up with the carriage downhill, how would he manage to make the jump uphill? As amusing as Jocelyn had thought it out to be, the idea of Luke trudging through Brocelind by himself and unarmed was not pleasant. Plus, attending the academy _alone_ was hard for Luke.

Jocelyn extended out her hand to Luke, who was sprinting to catch up. "You've got this Luke," she said quietly, more to convince herself than to help him.

But a moment later, Luke leaped up, grasping tightly to Jocelyn's small hand. He had launched himself up all the way, his feet planted firmly on the wooden board, which shook the entire carriage from the force of Luke's leap. She pulled him up to stand next to her, a heavy weight lifted off her chest. As much as the fun and games were, Jocelyn didn't want Luke to be angry with her for the rest of the year.

His breathing was heavy, his arm reaching around her to grab hold of the wooden handle. In their position, Jocelyn could feel his chest pressed up against her back, every exhale coming quickly. "Sorry." she muttered, awkwardly finding his free hand and squeezing it.

"It's fine. No damage done, right?" he gave her hand a quick squeeze as well, before releasing it.

"I guess." Jocelyn, quietly relieved that he was not upset at her, lowered herself to sit on the bench again, Luke following suit. The downhill path now ended, a stretch of long grass lay before them, eventually meeting a quiet brook. Jocelyn leaned against the back of the carriage contentedly, feeling the odd excitement that very soon she would be at school once more. Jocelyn's stomach churned nervously. It was odd to think that very soon she would again be training to become a warrior. Luke shifted next to her and she wondered what he was contemplating. He was most likely dreading what was coming. Jocelyn glanced at him, frowning. She wished she could do something. Anything to help him enjoy being a Shadowhunter. It would be better if it was just the two of them at the Fairchild Manor training together while he developed at least some sort of skill.

She, along with Luke, she presumed, suddenly wished that she could just go home, where her family and Luke and Amatis would be. Her parents would take care of her, and Amatis was there for girl time, and Luke was there for . . . well, _being Luke_.

Jocelyn could see the advantages of living the way past Shadowhunter woman had. There wasn't anything wrong with being domesticated. Her mother Adele was content with staying home and not going off to war. Perhaps she could convince her father to turn around . . .

Jocelyn stopped the line of thinking; it was 1984. There was no reason that she shouldn't fight. And she _wanted_ to fight. It was as simple as that. "Do you want to go back home?"

Luke glanced at her, eyebrows furrowed over his clear, blue eyes. "Why would I want to go home?"

"Oh," Jocelyn shrugged, embarrassed, glancing away from him. "I was just thinking."

"Thinking about what?" he pressed, knowing well by now that Jocelyn's thinking was very similar to an onion; there were layers upon layers behind her thought process.

"About home, obviously." Jocelyn snorted. "Summer went by way too quick."

"Doesn't every summer?" Luke teased, nudging her shoulder affectionately.

She rolled her green eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I just mean . . . I only meant that when I'm home, everything . . . it feels so . . . right. Like everything is how it is supposed to be. I have you and Amatis, and my parents, and everything is practically perfect. But now, with leaving, I've started doubting things I've never doubted before."

Luke frowned, "Like what?"

Jocelyn paused, not wanting the words to be out in the open, because if she said them, she might mean them. "Just, whether or not I should keep training or just do what Erica and Gracie Dieudonne are doing, or what my mom had to-"

"You mean to not fight?" Luke clarified slowly, the soft tone of his voice forcing her to look at him. His blue eyes were sympathetic and as usual, overwhelmingly gentle and kind.

Jocelyn found herself saying it without meaning to. "Yes. I've been thinking about it."

She waited for him to scoff at her, or maybe look disappointed, but she was surprised when he said, "I've been thinking about it too. And I envy you. That you get to make a decision and I don't."

Jocelyn stared at him _._ "What do you mean by that? Five years ago, women didn't even have the _choice_ to learn how to fight."

"But that's the thing." Luke explained. "Women get to _choose_. It isn't required. Women aren't expected anything. If they stay home? Great! If they learn to fight? Even better. They at least have the choice. Whereas, if a man chose to not be a warrior, it's because he is sickly and weak, and the entire family has to bear that shame for another two generations, if the guy is lucky enough to find a girl to actually want to marry him." Luke pulled out a stele in his pocket, anxiously exchanging it from hand to hand. "I guess we do have a choice, it's just not a very _good_ one. Shame the family, or give them endless glory from your death in battle because you can't hold a sword right."

Jocelyn stared at him. He had never mentioned his ineptitude for Shadowhunting. Nor had she, of course, because Jocelyn never knew where she could draw the line. He wasn't the most talented of their year; he never had finished anything first, and he couldn't draw runes for the life of him. In fact, the only thing he was good at was the history lessons they'd received about shadowhunters in their first two years, and that time last year when they memorized the entirety of the Covenant.

"Sometime's I feel . . ." his voice broke, and he shook his head, holding his knees to his chest. "I'm being stupid."

"No. You can tell me anything, just like I tell you everything. We are in a non-judging relationship, remember?" She smiled encouragingly at him, laying her head down on his shoulder.

He twisted his neck to look down at her, and she blinked at him, the smile still floating. She saw something in his eyes flicker and Jocelyn was glad when he opened his mouth.

"I just can't help thinking that . .."

"Yes?" she pressed, grabbing his hand and squeezing affectionately.

Luke turned his head so she wouldn't see him, and said it so quickly, Jocelyn thought she'd heard him wrong. "I feel like I'd be a better mundane than a Shadowhunter."

Jocelyn could feel his eyes on her as he waited for a reaction. She worked hard to hide her exact feelings, and swallowed a lump in her throat.

"You're judging me." Luke accused.

"No, I'm not."

"You are."

"No I'm not!"

"You are!"

" _I'm not._ "

"Then why did you scowl when I said it." he demanded, shrugging her head off his shoulder roughly.

"I wasn't scowling!" Jocelyn protested, shoving his shoulder in return.

"You're frowning right now!"

"Well, how did you want me to take it?" She exclaimed. "Do you want me to say, 'Gee, Luke that would be a grand idea, let me pack my bags first and I'll go with you?' You can't just say something like that without expecting me to get a little upset! Shadowhunting is . . ." Jocelyn scratched her head, watching as Luke stared at his feet, shaking his head at her. "Shadowhunting is what makes us special. Being a mundane . . . there are literally billions of them out there. There's _nothing_ special about being mundane. It's this," Jocelyn tapped the angelic rune on his right wrist, "that makes you extraordinary."

Luke shook his head at her, his eyebrows scrunched angrily and scooted farther away from her. "What are you saying? Do you mean to say that the only reason I'm special is because I'm a shadowhunter? That if I decided to leave the Shadowhunting world, I wouldn't be important to you anymore? Is _that_ what you are saying? Because when I think about you, Jocelyn, and the list of things that makes _you_ special, it isn't just shadowhunting. In fact, it's at the bottom of the list!" he told her passionately, ripping his hand away from her.

"By the angel, Luke that is not what I meant! I was just-"

"It sounded pretty clear to _me_. ' _Shadowhunting is what makes you special'_ is precisely what you said to me."

Jocelyn was left speechless with no idea of what she had done wrong. She hadn't meant it like that, honestly. But if she'd known Luke would react like this, then she would've shut up about it. "I meant that you live in a different world than anyone else on the planet, which is . . . _amazing_ , and the fact that you, out of anyone else, got to be a shadowhunter, is against almost all odds. By special I only meant . . ." Jocelyn grasped for words and thoughts. Either one would've been nice. "I just meant that you have a special ability to save the world and keep it from dying that no else really has. It's a responsibility of every shadowhunter to protect the mundanes. How could you do that if you're one of them?"

"And if I'm not good at it-"

"Then you try _harder_." Jocelyn shot at him, causing Luke's eyes to look up, his blue eyes narrowing at her. "You work longer. And you'll get better. You're not going to get it immediately, but you don't get to just quit if you're not good at something. "

"That's wonderful, Jocelyn, except you just told me _you_ were thinking about quitting too." Luke shot back at her, rolling his eyes.

"No I wasn't!" Jocelyn's hands shook, her anger getting the best of her. "I was wondering if I shouldn't fight, I never said anything about leaving altogether! You don't have to be dramatic and choose the most fanatical way of doing things. You don't _have_ to be a warrior to be in the Shadowhunter world."

"If I were to stay home, I'd be shamed for my entire life! And Amatis would be disappointed in me as well! The Graymark family, already in shambles . . ." he swallowed thickly, "We'd never be able to get to our feet again. I'll be sitting in the cottage living with _your_ parents, while you live at some strong shadowhunter's mansion that managed to sweep you off your feet at school. And you'd never see me again, because you'd be ashamed of me."

"Do you honestly think that?" Jocelyn stared at him, shaking her head, "I would never be ashamed of you, and Amatis wouldn't blame you either! You're not giving anyone enough credit. First that you'd think I would be ashamed of you, and secondly that you think I'd marry someone at the Academy? How low is your opinion of me?" she added the latter reason to lighten him up, and Jocelyn hid a smirk when Luke managed a small smile.

"It doesn't matter, Jocelyn." Luke said after a long time, his light brown hair askew across his forehead. "I really shouldn't be a shadowhunter."

Jocelyn wasn't taking his excuse, nor would she ever. "You're here with me, going to Shadowhunter Academy, so yes. You _are_ meant to be a Shadowhunter. I don't want to hear anymore of this nonsense about how unworthy you are, alright? If you feel that way, then we need to do something about it."

"Like what?" Luke said miserably. "I could hardly jump onto a bench. Imagine how I'll fair when I'm attacked by a demon, or a downworlder. I'll be sliced to pieces."

"No, you won't." Jocelyn said confidently, smiling as an idea occurred to her.

"And what makes you so sure?" Luke, ever the pessimist, refused to see his ineptitude as something to smile about.

Jocelyn's bright smile seemed to grow even bigger. Grabbing his arm, Jocelyn excitedly told him her plan. " _I'm_ going to personally train you."

 **Whatcha think? I don't have a set date for next chapter so when ever I get around to editing that portion. A couple reviews are definite motivators *wink wink***

 **-Laur**


	2. Chapter 2

Malachi Dieudonne was very bored. He'd arrived at the Academy before seven and after a thorough look around he found that very few teachers were even present. The Dean's office door was locked as well, which, as Malachi felt, was going to be the epitome of the rest of the year. As usual, the adults did not take anything seriously, and so, in cause and effect, no student would as well.

The wooden hallways were quiet and empty. Dust particles that had settled on the floor during the summer were picked up by Malachi's movements, and wafted in the air drowsily, only visible to him because of the early morning sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows.

Trevon had practically raced through the doors when he'd first arrived and headed his way to the direction of the dorms. Malachi assumed Trevon would immediately plop into bed and catch up on sleep after a late night/early morning packing (no thanks to their mother or Nikita for distracting them) and the long walk from home, across the stretching valley, and onto the pathway through the woods to the grand, gray building.

The place was admittably impressive with it's great towers, winged buttresses, and the large, stained glass depiction of the angel Raziel looming over the grounds. But as Malachi walked through the empty dark corridors, passing classroom after classroom, Malachi found that the awful taste in his mouth grew more distinct and present the farther he went.

 _By the angel, he hated this place._

Luckily this year, he could leave the moment his birthday came around in November. Then he could actually participate in the Clave, help make decisions and do something worth more than wasting years of his life. Nikita was adamant on him and Trevon staying all the years. Malachi assumed it was because, having passed the date in which Nikita could learn to fight, she was envious of her brothers. The fact that it was much cheaper to send two mouths to school instead of feeding and caring for them at home probably had something to do with it as well.

At the base of yet another staircase, Malachi glared up at the steep steps as he began to lug his suitcase up each level. Bringing the roller suitcase was enough of a hassle plowing through a wild field of prairie grass, but carrying it up half a dozen flights was even worse. Malachi reminded himself to add it to the long list of reasons of why he hated the place.

He began stumbling his way up, bruising his shins from the awkward weight, and was relieved to rest on the landing before starting up again. Malachi turned the corner, one wheel caught on the last step, his body lurching forward and his ankle rolling as he collapsed, consequently, at the Consul's feet.

Malachi, staring at the older man's heavy, leather boots an inch away from his nose, scrambled hastily up to his feet. He unceremoniously brushed any dust present on his clothes and straightened his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "Consul Delphinus." Malachi stated, sticking out his right hand rigidly. "I apologize for being so rude."

"No offense taken." Delphinus Monteverde frowned, shaking the young man's hand firmly. Malachi nearly gasped. The old man had an iron grip strong enough to rip the arm off of any human or demon. "I'm glad to have run into you. I was wondering if the entire school was deserted or not."

"I've seen a few teachers milling about, but no students, other than my brother, Trevon and I." Malachi reported nervously, finding it difficult to crane his neck to look up at the tall man. "I haven't seen Dean Townsend at all either."

"Peculiar." the Consul said, shifting a small box Malachi hadn't noticed from hand to hand. He noticed Malachi staring at it and explained, "I found this upstairs in one of the rooms after a quick inspection, and so I meant to bring it to the attention of the Dean after confiscating it."

Malachi peered at the intricate box, with an infinite symbol on both sides and other markings that Malachi did not recognize covering it. "Is that a pyxis, sir?"

"Yes it is!" Consul nodded, an expression that Malachi hopefully interpreted as impressed. "Very observant. It won't cause any damage; it's empty, but it still shouldn't be put into the hands of young and reckless teenagers."

Malachi nodded, silently agreeing with him, but found himself curious. "If you want, Consul Delphinus, I could hold onto it for you and give it to Dean Townsend, since I know you have other pressing matters to attend to."

As Malachi suspected, Delphinus laughed. "Did I not just tell you a pyxis shouldn't be allowed in a student's property?"

"It wouldn't be in my property." Malachi objected smoothly. "I'd give it to Dean Townsend immediately and you don't have to worry about it again."

The previous merriment left the older man as he warily stared at the young Shadowhunter. "What's your name, boy?"

Malachi ignored the irritated feeling of being inferior and straightened his posture. "Malachi Dieudonne, son of the late Howland Dieudonne."

Delphinus nodded, a look so hopefully dawning, Malachi thought that he might trust him. "I see . . . Malachi, I know that you are responsible, but I simply cannot let this fall into anyone's possession while you're at school. If you were an adult, maybe I would, but even then . . ."

"I'm only 3 months away from turning eighteen, sir. I could leave school if I really wanted to." Malachi sounded desperate. He knew that, and he was sure that Delphinus could hear it as well. So he calmed down, and thought before he spoke. "But I know that you are right and I am hardly responsible enough to carry an object like that. I only wanted to gain a little knowledge of the pyxis for when my class learns how to operate it at the end of term."

The Consul's eyebrows furrowed as he stared at Malachi in aghast horror. "The teachers are letting _children_ handle a pyxis? Why hasn't someone told me by now!"

Again, Malachi flinched at the word children, but was relieved despite his anger. Maybe he was getting somewhere with the old man. "The teachers thought it would be an exciting part of the curriculum that they're bringing back."

"There are reasons why learning about a pyxis was taken from the curriculum" Delphinus huffed, shifting the small box from hand to hand. "One too many accidents . . . or rather, too many blatant harassments."

"And I agree with you," Malachi said honestly, "Which is why I wanted to be as prepared as possible when we do start the opening process."

Consul Delphinus' resolve was crumbling; the way his graying eyebrows twitched up and down nervously was a sure sign. " . . . the curriculum . . ." he was muttering to himself, the pointed beard at his chin moving with his mouth, making it look like he was chewing on a hard bit of leather. "Alright then, young man." Delphinus relented. "You may deliver it to Dean Soandso immediately, and if I hear that it does not reach his possession . . ." the Consul paused for effect, "the consequences will be harsh for you, _and_ for your future."

Malachi tried not to look guilty and nodded vigorously. "Of course Consul Delphinus."

The older man smirked minutely at the mention of his full title and handed the pyxis (delicately) over to the young shadowhunter. "Good day, Mr. Dieudonne. I hope that I was right in trusting you."

Malachi took the box carefully from the extending arm and held it with both hands. " _Thank you_ , sir."

Malachi hurried up the staircase, leaving his suitcase on the landing. With a glance behind his shoulder, he watched as the Consul left the landing and headed to the west wing of the school, walking purposefully with his large boots clunking away. Malachi looked around the corner, stuffing the pyxis in the back of his pants and untucking his shirt. He raced the next two flights of stairs and headed to the fifth door on the left of the east tower. Yanking the door open, Malachi threw the object on his sheet covered bed, and wondered what the hell he was doing.

* * *

It was Eliza Rosewain that Madeleine looked forward to seeing more than anyone. Her cheery attitude was exactly what she needed to be in a better mood. But, unlike Aspen, Madeleine knew how to hide her emotions from Cressida. Her grandmother was just as adamant to have the young girls stay at house as last year. But it wasn't until a few gentle words from her husband that she relented.

They still received much grief for leaving, from angry dinners during the summer to criticizing letters during the school year. It was something that she and Aspen, however, could handle just fine over the nine months of Academy. It was just the three months that they both had to bear quietly and miserably that was difficult.

Aspen sat beside Madeleine, her arms folded across her curveless chest and bobbed hair falling into her face again. She looked grumpy sitting there, slouched over. Appearing like a little child, which, Madeliene begrudgingly admitted, wasn't entirely Aspen's fault. Madeleine cleared her throat in the uncomfortable silence, while her wrinkled grandmother glared at the two girls with her angry, grey eyes.

"You two better behave this year. I don't want any messages about my girls being burdens." she'd said.

Madeleine resisted the urge to retort that she and Aspen were perfectly well-behaved at school. There never had been a bad report home before, so where Cressida got the idea, was beyond Madeleine. So instead: "Of course, grandma, we'll try."

Cressida sniffed at the reply, but did not criticise the girls further. Instead, Grandpa Lloyd spoke up in his soft, muffled voice. "It'll be a fun year for the two of you." His bony knee nudged Aspen's, who in turn forced a smile and looked up.

"But not too much fun," Cressida cut in sharply, "Aspen, you're still tremendously shaky with your rune drawing and Madeleine, I've heard from your Trainer that you can be disarmed in less than a minute."

The old woman carried on with everything that Madeleine and Aspen had to improve on, while the two sisters brewed silently. Lloyd did not say anything further to avoid adding more fuel to Cressida's ever-growing spitfire. And so the carriage was filled with tense silence much like it had for most of the trip.

Beside Madeleine, she felt Aspen every few seconds twitching of impatience and boredom. Madeleine, however, did not mind the quiet. It was like a much needed recharging of a dead battery after a long, draining summer. It hadn't been _too_ busy, but certain events had been . . . overwhelming. She hadn't written Jocelyn about what had happened, and was looking forward to someone who would actually believe her. Jocelyn was always a good listener and would love the story Madeleine had for her.

When the large plain was near it's end before becoming enveloped into a dense canopy, Madeleine's heart began to ache as she recognized the gray spires that shot above the tall treetops. Long tresses of weeds stretched almost above their carriage. Flowers and grass that had never been tamed brushed against its sides. Her heart bounced in time with each rut in the road, which had narrowed to allow just enough room for one carriage to pass through comfortably. It felt like the road through the forest took longer than the entire trip combined. Aspen peered around Madeleine's shoulder and felt her sigh as the grand Academy came into view.

She never would grow tired of looking at the gray building with the stone towers and artwork covering each wall. All she could see was the tall towers, and then slowly the red glass could be seen, and then the beautiful stained window finally came into full view. The early morning sunlight made the decor glow heavenly, and suddenly, the horses had pulled into the large courtyard, where a dozen more family carriages had parked themselves. Suitcases and duffel bags littered the grass, with small siblings running around the grounds. Parents chatted idly and stiffly to each other, while many of the teenagers embraced and greeted friends. But the first person Madeleine really saw was her friend of two years, Eliza Rosewain.

Eliza, as usual, was chatting to a large group surrounding her, which Madeleine recognized as the ascending mundanes. She nearly hopped out of the stuffy carriage right then, but, remembering her elderly grandparents, she helped the 70 and 68 year old down to the ground.

"Is it alright if I go meet up with my friends . . . or-"

"Well, you do still have you bags in the back..." Cressida hinted.

Madeleine fought back a frustrated sigh. "Alright, grandma. Afterwards, do you need anything else?"

Cressida peered around the vicinity. "Where has Aspen run off to already?"

Madeleine frowned and scanned the area, searching for Calantha, or another of Aspen's friends. None were in sight, so she told her she did not see Aspen. "Fine then." the aged woman sniffed. "After you grab your things, you have my permission to go off with your friends. But remember to say goodbye before we leave."

Madeleine nodded, beaming when Eliza made eye contact. The other girl winked and continued talking to her friends. Madeleine hurriedly heaved her and Aspen's bags off of the back and, after a small peck on the cheek from her grandfather, she ran to the group.

Now on the fray of the circle, Madeleine, who at first recognized the five others as mundanes, surprisingly saw that Calantha Freeman and Michael Wayland were among them. Coming around to Calantha's side and pulling her away for a moment, Madeleine asked quietly, "Have you seen Aspen? I didn't see her go inside."

Calantha looked up at Madeleine, her brown eyes narrowing. "Yes."

"Could you tell me _where_. . . or do you just want to not tell me."

Calantha rolled her eyes. "She's behind the school by the old spruce tree. She's not in a very good mood, just warning you. I barely spoke a word to her before she went into a huge spitfire."

Madeleine grimaced, shaking her head. "We had a bad carriage ride here. And a bad summer, all in all."

"Well, it doesn't excuse her to be so rude."

"No, it doesn't." Madeleine agreed. "But thank you. Maybe I can get her to apologize, yeah?"

"Maybe." Calantha scowled.

Madeleine began to head her way to the back of the school, before someone called her name. She turned around, and saw Eliza waving to her.

Leaving the group, Eliza jogged to catch up to her. "Where do you think you're going? I haven't even gotten a hug yet!"

She was pulled into a quick embrace by the shorter girl, smiling. It was nearly impossible not to smile around Eliza. "Sorry, Liz. My sister is just being . . . difficult lately."

"Can't blame her." frowned Eliza. She'd stayed a weekend at the Bellefleur house last summer and hadn't been invited back by Cressida since after she gave her ("offensive and radical") views on downworlders and mundanes.

Madeleine shrugged. "She'll get over it. Eventually her mood will pick up after some time away from home and she'll get better."

"You're right." Eliza agreed, bumping her shoulder. "But how have you been doing? My summer was boring, so I was hoping to feed off of yours."

Madeleine looked at her friend skeptically. "With _my_ grandparents? You think _my_ summer was fun?"

"Maybe a little interesting." Eliza shrugged again, this time bashfully. "You didn't fight with Grandma Cressie at all?"

"Too many times to be of any real significance."

"What, you're telling me you didn't do _anything_ during the summer?"

"No . . ." Madeleine bit her lip, feeling the urge to tell her of what had really consumed her whole life the past three months. "I mean, I read a bit, and practiced some runes on myself-"

Eliza rolled her eyes, sighing. "Fine, tell me when you want to. Because I know something _must've_ happened."

Madeleine stopped walking and stared at the edge of the forest. "How do you know that?"

Eliza stepped into the shade of the gray brick building, leaning against it casually. "You stopped responding to my mail in June. You _always_ write during the summer. I assumed that something happened."

Madeleine frowned as the rustling started again in bushes, the green foliage hiding whatever was there. She started forward, a sick feeling in her stomach as she passed the school, and Eliza grabbed her elbow to swing her around.

"What's wrong?" Eliza looked worried, her normally bright eyes darkening.

"I thought I-" Madeleine swallowed, craning her head to look around her shoulder. "I thought I saw something moving the bushes."

Eliza whipped around, staring at the now still brush. "Where?"

"I . . . nevermind. It was probably just an animal or something."

"If you're sure?" Eliza's brow furrowed, her short hair gently floating around her in the humid breeze.

"Yeah." Madeleine shook her head, her stomach stopped it's rolling, and the nervous buzzing in her ears was gone." _Anyways_ , nothing happened." Madeleine dared the trees to move again, "And you don't see me pressing _you_ for any details. You said nothing happened, so that must mean you don't want to talk to me about what happened to you over the summer either!"

Madeleine felt triumphant in turning the topic away from her and the odd movement in the forest to whatever Eliza had done. She'd been called crazy too many times by Aspen this summer that if someone else told her, she would believe it. "I'm being honest. Not much happened. I went to Alicante every week or so with my parents, and read the rest of it. I did help out at the Wayland manor when one of their mundanes left abruptly, so I got some money from that-"

"So _that's_ why Michael was talking to you?" Madeleine hinted, smirking a little.

"Well . . . I guess. We did spend a week together while his parents left for some kind of Clave duty or other." Eliza said casually, shrugging.

"So . . . nothing happened . . . at all. While you two were alone together in the house . . . _by yourselves._ "

"Madeleine Euphemia Bellefleur! I don't like what you're insinuating." Eliza slapped her arm playfully. "Michael and I are just barely friends. So no, I did not just throw myself at him just because I think he's gorgeous and funny. Plus we weren't alone at all. Robert Lightwood was there more than half of the time anyways, doing things only parabatai do."

"Well . . . that's promising." Madeleine tried to stop the grin stretching across her face. "You at least find him attractive."

"There are plenty of guys that are attractive, it doesn't mean that I . . . By the Angel! I don't have to talk about this! And _you_ don't have a right to ask, since you've _refused_ to tell me about summer." Eliza huffed, her cheeks flushing perfectly from embarrassment. "Now go," she shooed Madeleine away, "find your sister and make her feel better."

Madeleine was laughing as Eliza scurried off to the now smaller group of people, containing two mundanes and, to the ever mounting curiosity of Madeleine, Michael Wayland. His dazzling grin flashed at Eliza as he swept back some of his brown hair out of his eyes. And as much as Madeleine wanted to watch, she remembered more pressing matters.

 _Aspen_.

Right.

 **So how did y'all like it? I've had most of Saturday to myself and it's been a fantastic experience to relax, write and catch up on sleep. Please review and leave me your thoughts! I'm sorry if this beginning is a little slow. I have so many things to set up that this is the only way I can do it.**

 **-Laur**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay okay. Wow its been a year or two! I'm really truly sorry for some unfinished works. Like the epilogue to The Lady in the Painting, Stele Arts Academy...and of course this number that was barely started. I'm not going to promise anything since I know I won't be able to keep it, but I really hope to be writing a bit more. Anyways, for any who care, I'm about to graduate with my associates in Culinary Arts and am super excited to see where it takes me! Enjoy the read, it's still setting up a few things so I'm sorry if it's still a little slow-Laur**

Aspen was still slumped against the rough bark of the spruce tree. She was certain she'd only been sulking for a short while, but the needles already itched her head and, annoyed, smacked the branch away from her. It responded, naturally, by sweeping back to slap her face with even more force than before.

She nearly growled at it, before shifting to a better spot in which needles didn't touch her. The spruce tree had been a sort of haven for her for years, where she could hide in the dark arms of the thirty foot tall tree. It, of course, hadn't stayed a secret for long, a younger Aspen eagerly sharing her findings with older sister Madeleine.

And as much as Aspen did not want to admit it, she always wanted Madeleine to talk her through whatever she was upset about. So it was almost- _almost_ -comforting, when she saw her sister's white-blonde head making her way to her.

They both remained silent as Madeleine situated herself as comfortably as she could (she was rather tall), with the space given. Her older sister brought her knees up to her chin and stared off thoughtfully at the school. "Do you want me to talk, or do you?"

"You can." Aspen murmured, digging her foot into the soft dirt.

"Okay . . ." Madeleine said slowly, staring down the lawn, meanwhile chewing her lip worriedly. "Calantha looked upset when I talked to her. She said that you shouldn't be mad at her just because you're -"

"No, not that." Aspen groaned and shook her head. "Talk about you. I've had enough of me."

"Alright . . ."Madeleine hid her worried look and began. "I don't know if I should tell Eliza about what . . . well, what happened in June."

Aspen stared at her sister, wondering why on earth she still held that hope. "Maddie . . . Don't tell her. Honestly, you don't know if . . . ." she swallowed, choosing her words carefully, "You don't know if that guy was telling the truth. Downworlders are dangerous, need I remind you! You of all people should know that! How do you know you can trust him? He could've easily been lying. Or manipulating you for his own end, or -"

But Maddie just shook her head. "You don't remember that night. After they got Dad . . ." her voice broke for a moment. Aspen was thankful she was too young to remember, "well I don't recall what happened next _exactly_ , but I never saw any of Mom's blood, or Clara's . . . they just disappeared."

" _They aren't alive_." Aspen told her stoutly, feeling like she'd said this countless times throughout the summer. "We are going to live with Cressida for the rest of our childhood and there is nothing we can to do to change that!"

"Oh, but Aspen, don't you _wish_ that it would change?" Madeleine tugged Aspen's arm, forcing her green eyes to meet her sister's hazel ones. "Don't you _wish_ we had parents?"

"Yes," Aspen could feel her lips trembling, and closed her eyes to keep them dry. "But wishing is childish." she ripped her gaze from her sister and stared at her high heeled boot. "And . . . it's useless wishing for something you'll never get."

Madeleine sighed, leaning her head against the black bark. "Whatever Aspen. If you don't want to help me . . . just fine. Whatever. I'll get help from my friends then, since my own _family_ doesn't believe me."

Aspen rolled her eyes as Madeleine crawled out of the space and started to leave. "Stop being so dramatic!" she told her, "I'm just trying to be practical!"

Madeleine turned around and glared at Aspen. "We're Shadowhunters! Is there anything _practical_ about us?" Aspen sighed and leaned her head back as Madeleine stormed off, disappearing behind the gray building.

 _Congratulations, Aspen, you managed to drive away the only person that is_ required _to love you._

* * *

Jocelyn was already bombarded with her group of friends, and Luke felt obliged to stay back, watching from afar. He preferred it that way, really. As Jocelyn often grew spirited and excited, he found it safer for his well-being to stay behind. He could see the entire yard in front of him anyway, viewing each individual with passing interest.

Madeleine Bellefleur came stomping from around the back, looking downright furious, her platinum hair flying out around her. A few mundane recruits stood nervously in a tight circle by the front doors, glancing over their shoulder every so often like someone was going to stab them from behind, which given the last few years, wouldn't have been too far of a stretch. Granville and Adele Fairchild chatted with another a couple, and a boy (presumably their son) stood slumped behind him. The woman looked stern, with sleek pale blonde hair and defining wrinkles around her mouth. The older man standing next to her had a receding hairline that must've once been the same color as his son's, which was golden blonde, but his was losing his color and turned white. Luke stared as the Fairchild's embraced the other two like old friends, curious to know who they were.

Behind them, he saw his sister Amatis rejoining her friends, Annamarie Highsmith and Maryse Trueblood. He smiled as Amatis's blue eyes lit up in excitement and happiness at finally being reunited with them. It had been a dull summer with only him for company. He drifted his focus to the opposite side of the yard to where a beaky kid with glasses sat and leaned against the bricks of the school, reading a book. A distance off, he noticed Charles Freeman in heavy conversation with his own father. Calantha, the youngest, stood scowling at her brother, her short form ironically looking more menacing than that of her extremely tall and gawky brother.

Nearest to Luke though, stood a young girl with white blonde hair and extremely sallow skin. The girl didn't look like she could be older than 10 or 11, but Luke recognized that a few runes had been applied to her skin, and the large duffel bag at her feet that she was trying to desperately lift must've been hers.

No parents stood by her narrow shoulders to help the skinny girl and suddenly, Luke found himself unable to swallow a thick lump of pity and sadness in his throat. The pathetically thin girl swallowed quickly as her pale blue eyes moistened, yanking at the handle, now so frustrated, that her chest rose quickly in a gasping, sobbing breath so loud, he could hear her from where he stood. Luke started forward, not able to bear another second of the girl struggling, when a pale hand, much bigger than that of the girl, swooped in and lifted the duffel bag like it was no lighter than a pillow. Luke stared as the small girl looked up admiringly into the black eyes of Valentine Morgenstern.

Luke flinched backwards, barely 10 yards away, watching as her blue eyes sparkled up at the towering shadowhunter boy in front of her. She said something, which Valentine smiled charmingly at, placing a hand on her shoulder and squatting to her eye level. She nodded at whatever he was saying, a beaming grin stretching across her entire face. And for that moment, Luke found that the sickly girl actually looked quite pretty then.

Luke turned his back from the ever so charming Valentine, who could sweep in whenever someone was in need of help, even if it was as simple as lifting a duffel bag. Even when Luke _had_ been about to help, for some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that Valentine did it ten times better than he ever could. And it was precisely because he was a _Morgenstern_.

L **eave your thoughts below in that cute box please! Feedback is always welcome!**


	4. Chapter 4

New chapter featuring Eliza, Jocelyn and Madeleine! Hope you enjoy! I've got some new mundane OCs that I enjoy writing about that I'll introduce next chapter. The chapters will probably start getting longer for the story line's sake. Anyways, enjoy the read and please review!

-Laur

* * *

It was a rush of kisses and hugs to her parents, quick hand squeezes, and firm promises to write often that led to Amatis, Luke and Jocelyn waving goodbye to the Fairchilds, the carriage slowly mixing in with the traffic as families left for home, younger siblings sticking out their heads and frantically waving goodbye. The train of the slow moving carriages inched their way off the grass and slowly disappeared, one by one, onto the trail and moving on to their separate ways; either across the valley, along the edge of Brocelind forest, or through the foliage, back to their country homes, or their estates in Alicante.

A long line of students were still waving at their families when a tall, bearded man with cropped, black hair shouted for their attention. "Shadowhunters!" his voice cracked and Jocelyn wondered how Dean Townsend had managed to lose his voice already. "Head to your rooms! Females in South Wing, males in the North. Mundanes . . . the basement will do."  
A few of the Shadowhunters snickered at that; they all knew what the lower floor was like. "Mundanes . . . Dismissed!" his voice cracked once more, and the kids who bore no runes scurried to grab their suitcases and duffel bags, running to the front doors and disappearing into the familiar halls.

The Shadowhunters stood in attention, their backs stiffly straight and their chests puffed out. The Dean continued, walking along the lines much like a drill sergeant would. "This year, I don't want any trouble. This might be a school full of children," he continued, and Jocelyn preceded to roll her eyes, "but I want everyone to act like adults. I know most of you have trouble handling the mundanes in a mature manner . . . and seeing after last year's incident," Dean Townsend scowled at a few snickering students in the line, "we've decreased the amount of mundanes in the pool for schooling this year."

A loud gasp echoed in the silent courtyard, everyone turning to stare at the culprit, Eliza Rosewain. "Is there a problem, Ms. Rosewain?"

"Yes!" she said defiantly, and Jocelyn was sure the rest of the student body internally groaned with her. "You're punishing the mundanes because we, Shadowhunters, didn't like them and decided to be bullies! Shouldn't there be restrictions on the Shadowhunter students, instead of the mundanes, who didn't do anything wrong?"

Dean Townsend glared at the short girl, who's blazing blue eyes could drill a hole into the man's forehead. "We are kind enough to let them join us; mundanes should be grateful they even have a chance to ascend to our rank."

"That's so pompous and untrue." Eliza rolled her eyes. "You might like to think that they need us, but really, in fifty years or so, Shadowhunters will die off! And it's because everyone was so prideful to think that we're so much better!"

"Rosewain!" a booming voice interrupted the argument, Eliza flinching immediately and clamping her mouth shut. It was Consul Delphinus, who, visibly, looked more intimidating than a great white shark. A pointed beard bristled at his chin, his large, heavy jaw clenched angrily, and at 6'5, towered over the especially small Eliza. He came strolling from the dark oak doors, moving with purpose as his large, leather boots clomped toward the very still Shadowhunter

students, who anxiously awaited Eliza's punishment. "Report to the Dean's office, where he can . . . discuss your attitude and lack of respect."

Jocelyn stared as the older girl gritted her teeth and nodded. "Alright." Dean Townsend also nodded, sending a grateful look to the Consul. "Now, as I was saying before, discipline and respect for the teachers and other students is essential to becoming a valiant Shadowhunter. Through your training this year, it will press you more extensively than years past. After the retirement of our trainer, Mr. Cartwright, we have a few additions to our staff that will be introduced tonight at dinner. Until then, unpack and get settled in." The Dean licked his lips, struggling to find any other inspiring words to lecture the students on, he dismissed them.

Jocelyn immediately headed to Madeleine, who rose her eyebrows at her. "Ready?"

Madeleine nodded and smiled, shouldering her backpack and lifting her black suitcase. So, bags in hand, they strolled into the school, unhurried and grateful for the time to relax before the lessons began. "How was your summer?"

Jocelyn shrugged. "It was nice. Luke and I stayed cooped up in the house most of the time. I tried to help him out with a few techniques I learned from my personal trainer a couple years ago but . . ."

Madeleine ended the predictable sentence. "Luke's still as bad as he was three months ago."  
"I mean . . ." Jocelyn would've felt uncomfortable telling this to any other person, but it was Madeleine. "he's not terrible at everything -"

"He's just not really good at anything either, I know." Madeleine sighed, frowning. "Is he doing okay? He seems very mellow lately."

"Mellow?"

Madeleine rolled her eyes at her roommate and amended, "Sad. Depressed. Glum."

Jocelyn bit her lip, wondering if she should share the events on the carriage ride with her. "I haven't noticed anything different." she lied, shrugging.

"Oh . . . well it probably has something to do with rooming with Malachi Dieudonne."

Jocelyn laughed, thinking about Luke's reaction to the letter the week before. "You heard about that?"

"He wrote me a few days ago about how Dean Townsend is not even bothering to cover up his hatred for him anymore; Luke is convinced it's deliberate."

"Yeah, he let me read the letter. Poor Luke." Jocelyn was struggling to hide a grin, "I bet Malachi'll talk his ear off about Clave politics or any other dull subject."

"His brother, Trevon, told me that he planned on being the Consul when he was older." Madeleine smirked.

Jocelyn snorted. "Ha! Like anyone in our generation would tolerate him running the government."

"It sounds unlikely." Madeleine agreed, climbing the steps nimbly and waited for the short-legged Jocelyn to catch up.

"By the Angel, why are you so tall?" she muttered, glaring at her friend.

Madeleine smirked and rolled her eyes. "Why do you have nice hair?" she shot back at her.

"My hair?" Jocelyn fingered the frizzy ponytail. "Are you're seeing straight?"

"You're hair is so feathered and cute and mine is just . . . bleh."

Jocelyn shoved a perfect strand of straight, platinum hair into her roommate's face.

"It's straight.  
"And flat."

"And straight."

"And boring."

"And straight."

"And . . . By the Angel, Jocelyn! Congrats! You're very observant!" Madeleine shoved Jocelyn's hand away as they mounted another set of stairs, arguing easily and playfully, passing groups of other girls heading to the tower. "It isn't 1973 anymore, so straight hair like mine isn't that great anyways."

"Well I like it. You'd be a great hippie."

Madeleine was about to elbow Jocelyn quite hard when someone called her over.

"Hey Jocelyn!"

The person in question froze and cautiously turned around, smiling forcefully at Maryse Trueblood. "What's up?"

"How are you?" she asked politely back, tossing her sleek, black hair over her shoulder.

Jocelyn craned her neck at the girl and wished, yet again, that she was tall. "I'm alright. How was your summer, Maryse?"

"It was brilliant." Maryse replied monotonically, suddenly stiffening.

"Umm . . . Is there anything I can do . . ."

"I actually just wanted to inform you of a new group forming and wondered if you wanted to join?" Maryse cut in coolly, any sign of her former stiffness disappearing into the usual confident facade of Maryse Trueblood.

Jocelyn shouldered her backpack nervously. "What kind of group?"

"It focuses mainly on the reformation of traditional ideas." Maryse stated fluently, as if reading from a script.

"Who's going?"

"A lot of people."

Jocelyn rolled her eyes. "Okay. So when does it meet?"

"Every other night."

Jocelyn's eyes bugged out, glancing at Madeleine beside her. "What kind of group is this again?"

"When more people attend, it'll become more interactive." Maryse avoided the question and shrugged her shoulders.

"Wait a minute . . ."Jocelyn narrowed her eyes. "Is this that fan club Valentine was `promoting at the end of last year? Because it sounds revolting and a waste of time."

"A simple no would suffice." Maryse turned up her elegant nose at Jocelyn and headed towards a group of younger girls.

"It looks like Valentine is taking his possy to the next level." Madeleine bit her lip worriedly. "Do you think people will actually join?"

"Well, she did a pretty good job at covering up any important details. If I hadn't heard about it last year, I would've considered going." Jocelyn said bitterly watching as the younger

shadowhunter girls nodded eagerly, staring in wonder that someone like Maryse would want to talk to them. "As popular as he is, I'm sure Valentine's group will flood in with members." Jocelyn folded her arms, suddenly becoming furious. "I don't understand it! Valentine is so full of himself. He thinks that just because everyone loves him-"

"Everyone does." Madeleine added sullenly.

"-and just because he's charming-"

"Also true."

"-he get's to do whatever he wants to do."

"Which he does."

"Not helping."

"Sorry." Madeleine grinned sheepishly and shut her mouth. "At least I'm being honest."

"You're really not helping me.."

"I'm also pretty sure that we're the only two at this school who loathe Morgenstern."

"Which is why we're friends!" Jocelyn slung her short arm over her tall friend's shoulder and they continued their walk to their room.

After a moment or two, Madeleine decided to add, "Eliza isn't all too fond of Valentine, either."

Jocelyn sighed, releasing her friend and folding her arms. "So?"

"I'm just saying she's not all that different."

"But weird."

"You're weird."

"You know I don't mean it like that." Jocelyn shrugged, dragging her feet as they hit the last staircase. "She's got weird ideas."

"Eliza is really nice! I don't see why you don't like her."

"Your plea isn't very convincing. Plenty of people are 'nice.' Valentine is nice, and so is Robert Lightwood, but you don't see me hanging with them do you?" Jocelyn grimaced and shook her head. "Anyways, I wouldn't want anyone to know I was associated with her."

Madeleine snorted and stopped in her tracks, Jocelyn impatiently waiting in front of her. "Associated? By the Angel!" Madeleine tossed her hair out of her face, her thin nose flaring. "You're just like everyone else sometimes!"

"I am not!" Jocelyn struggled to figure out what to say to her now angry friend and ultimately decided: she did not want to fight before school had even started. "Fine. I'll try to be nice to Eliza," she compromised grudgingly, before grinning impishly, "As long as I get the bed by the window!" and nearly plowed Madeleine over as she dashed to their usual room, grinning like an idiot as Madeleine passed her easily (Jocelyn blamed the legs) and plopped down on the farthest bed next to the large window. Madeleine smirked at her, and Jocelyn, naturally, stuck out her tongue, immensely glad that the topic of Valentine Morgenstern and Eliza Rosewain was now forgotten.

* * *

Eliza slid her shoulder lengthed hair behind her ear again, which seemed to constantly fall into her eyes. It was bright and small in the Dean's office, with a door on the left wall that led to Townsend's own living quarters. At the moment, she stood in front of a large desk that took up most of the room, while (she'd recognized the ploy ages ago) Dean Townsend pretended to read something highly interesting in the Codex. It was maddening, the wait, and Eliza wished they'd just skip the formalities and start with the lecture on respect or whatever else the Dean and Consul had come up with to try and reign her in to the "traditional way" of thinking. The waiting was highly nerve-wracking and worse than whatever punishment they'd likely give her.

"It's good that you came, Eliza." Dean Townsend finally acknowledged her, not looking up from reading the very (interesting) entry in the Codex.

"It isn't like I had much choice." Eliza muttered, raising an eyebrow at him.

Dean Townsend heaved a great, loud sigh, in which he snapped the weighted Codex shut, the sound quick and short. Eliza guessed amusedly that the Dean probably wished that he could snap her neck as easily as he closed the book. "Ms. Rosewain," he began carefully, meticulously pronouncing her last name, "I know that you are intelligent and young, and idealistic. I know that you have different opinions than most of us here. I also know that some students are offended by some of your outbursts-"

"They're offended?" Eliza laughed sardonically. "What about-"

"I know that despite your intelligence, however, you are not smart." Dean Townsend cut over Eliza's rant before she could get started. "You say whatever you want whenever and look down on others for their opposing beliefs. If you knew what you're doing, you'd stop it immediately."

"And why's that?" Eliza challenged, folding her arms and glaring at the Dean.

"You're creating enemies." he shot back at her, narrowing his eyes. "Life goes on out of this school if you hadn't noticed, and once you're gone, we can't protect you from whatever your fellow class members will inflict on you. No one will listen to anything you say while the Clave is in session because they've heard it enough times in school. You may never get married because no desires a wife that talks too much. Maybe one day, someone decides to throw a torch in your home while you sleep, and you, and your family, go up in smoke."

"What are you trying to-" Eliza licked her lips, horrified at what Dean Townsend was insinuating. Suddenly, the thought of Townsend snapping her neck was no longer amusing, and suddenly realistically horrific. "Are you threatening me?"

"No no no." he said smoothly and intertwined his fingers, a triumphant look on his face, "I'm only warning you of your future if you continue your path."

"You think I'd be martyred?" she asked incredulously. "I doubt someone would go to that extent-"

"Oh, believe it, Eliza. There are many out there who wouldn't even blink." he cut in coolly. "And a martyr insinuates that there is a cause that people are willing to rally behind. If something tragic happened to you, I doubt anyone would notice it."

Suddenly her eyes began to sting, and her stomach churned, imagining Maryse Trueblood, Valentine Morgenstern, or ( as appalling as it made her feel) Michael Wayland slitting her throat. "Are you done now?" Eliza rubbed her head, feeling her temples start to ache. "Can I go now that I will fear for my life whenever I sleep at night?" she asked irritably, not bothering with any sarcasm to make it sound untrue.

Townsend, believing he'd gotten to her at last, sat back in his chair and smirked, minutely waving his hand to send her out.

Eliza rolled her eyes and gladly left the office. She purposely left the door open, feeling an immature sense of victory when she heard him grumble, get up from his chair, and close the door himself.

* * *

"Stop looking out the window, you're starting to freak me out." Jocelyn told Madeleine, who was, in fact, staring out the window at the line of trees beyond the courtyard.

Madeleine glanced back at her friend, who was already lounging on her bed, legs crossed as she read, turning a page of her book. "Sorry," she said, sitting down, alarmed by the very similar movement in the trees she'd seen earlier that day, "I keep on thinking I see something watching the school, is all."

"There probably is. Some nasty fairies have decided to invade the school and turn us all into trees while we're asleep ."

"You think so?" Madeleine asked, horrified, her hazel eyes wide.

"No." Jocelyn laughed, wiping away the grin almost immediately when she saw her friend's horrified expression. "By the Angel, Maddie! I'm only joking. I'm one-hundred percent sure that we're safe and no one is out there. You're imagination is running wild and-"

"And I'm just making it up, I guess?" Madeleine snapped, suddenly feeling very irritated that everyone kept telling her that she was hallucinating. She wasn't crazy, if that was what everybody was hinting at. Everyone being, of course, Aspen and Jocelyn, the two people she was closest to. "I know what I saw. I thought I . . . well, it doesn't matter, but I know there's something by the trees that's been there most of the day, like it's waiting for something."

Jocelyn stared at Madeleine, her light eyebrows furrowed. "Are you sure?"

"One-hundred percent." she repeated, her voice still holding a bit of venom for her roommate.

"Then we should check it out!" Jocelyn jumped up from her bed and sprung to her feet.

"But wha. . ." Madeleine's jaw dropped. "No, you're right. It probably is nothing but an animal!" As much as the movement bothered her, she had no desire or courage to go find out what it was.

"No, I want to know why you're seeing this happen!" Jocelyn challenged her.

"I don't think it's such a big deal." she replied weakly, sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Then come on! Just a second ago I convinced you it was some evil fairies. Don't be so scared! If you think it's some animal, then let's make it move so it will stop bothering you, which, in turn, will make it stop bothering me."

"I really don't want to." Madeleine shook her head minutely, laying down in her bed. "Maybe we should just tell someone on staff."

"Well why not! You're the one just a minute ago snapping at me that you weren't making it up!"

"I'm not taking it back; I just feel no need to investigate it and potentially be in danger!"

Jocelyn raised a doubting eyebrow, folding her arms over her flat chest. "Do you really think that a downworlder is hiding in the underbrush?"

Madeleine looked sheepish and avoided eye contact. "Maybe?"

Jocelyn snorted and shook her head. "I'll just take Luke with me. It's about time we hunted together properly."

"No! Wait, Jocelyn! Don't take Luke." Madeleine stopped Jocelyn at the door. "Don't you remember . . . with his father?"

"It won't be a problem, because it's not a downworlder." Jocelyn assured her calmly. "Are you sure you don't want to come?"

Madeleine bit her lip. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Okay. See you soon, then." Jocelyn sounded mildly disappointed as she left the room and headed towards Luke's.

* * *

Any ideas to what the movement is in the bush? Also, any theories to what Madeleine saw over her summer break? Leave your thoughts and comments in that cute review box down below please!

-Laur


	5. Chapter 5

**Back again before finals! Anyone else procrastinating with homework and reading/writing instead? *Raises Hand* not even ashamed guys. So don't be either! Enjoy the read! The POVs for this chapter include: Luke, Jocelyn, Amatis and Eliza!**

 **-Laur**

* * *

Luke stared blankly at the page above his head. He was laying down in his made up bed, arms holding up some mundane book Madeleine had sent to him over the summer. The words blurred together into meaningless black and yellow. It wasn't that the book was boring (quite the contrary, Luke found Treasure Island to be quite exciting.), nor was his roommate being too loud. In fact, it was the complete, still silence that was bothering Luke so much. Malachi, Luke's new roommate, sat on the his own bed, writing in a notebook. Other than the pencil scrawls, there had been no noise in the room for the past half hour.

And it wasn't like Luke's experience with roommates in the years previous were all too stellar (Anson Pangborn was an abnormally loud sleeper), but at least Luke could enjoy a light conversation every now and then. By the time Luke had reached the east tower, Malachi was finished unpacking a heavy suitcase. Inside their shared wardrobe, it was divided neatly, with black gear folded in the drawer, and a few ceremonial robes hung on hangers, one Luke recognized as a white mourning suit.

The stone floor was spotless, other than black boots and a small box that lay underneath Malachi's bed, which was closest to the door. Luke knew then that he was in for it. Particularly because he was never the most tidiest person. "Hey." Luke had inarticulately said, waving a feeble hand to Malachi.

The older shadowhunter looked from his notebook to Luke, scrutinizing him up and down. Malachi nodded minutely and returned to his notebook.

"Were you in the front lawn just now?" Luke had asked, for he couldn't remember seeing his roommate at all.

"No."

Luke then swallowed, setting his bags on the empty bed. "Okay."

And that was the end of their conversation.

Luke glared at the print, willing it to entice him. But the words were meaningless, and for all he knew, they were as just randomly selected. The light filtering into his room was hotter and brighter than it had been in the cool morning. He inwardly sighed; the morning was not complicated as Jocelyn shook him awake excitedly, Amatis rolling her eyes at the younger girl's enthusiasm while cooking breakfast for the whole household, the panicked two minutes of "did I leave my toothbrush in the bathroom," and "I hope I brought enough daggers to scare the 13 year olds." It was all too easy and, Luke assumed, the universe wasn't content until his life was absolutely miserable.

The best day to train (according to Jocelyn) was the first day. Luke saw no point in a one day head start, but it was Jocelyn, so he'd contently agreed to meet her in the commons area after dinner. Luke was unsure if he was looking forward to it to avoid anymore awkward silence with Malachi, or was still dreading it because it was training, and therefore, excruciating physical exertion. But then again, Jocelyn was in charge of it, so it couldn't be that bad . . .

Luke's eyes widened as he thought this over, and realized his terrible mistake; he thought that Jocelyn would go easy on him. Luke saw a quick flash of a disturbing image; Jocelyn screaming, red faced and spit flying, in the training grounds as he lifted himself from a pushup or two. If she really wanted to, Jocelyn could've been the most feared trainer the school had ever seen. And it just so happened that Luke, for no other reason other than not being able to help himself, had accepted her training. Luke laughed aloud at the thought, feeling a wild hysteria when he thought about it too much.

"What's so funny?" Malachi's higher voice echoed in the silent room.

"Ugh . . . nothing." Luke shook himself, realizing he still held the book in front of his face. "The book is funny, is all."  
Malachi blinked at him, sending Luke a judging look as he went back to his writing. Luke hid a smile with the cover of the book he was still pretending to read. Already he was bored, and he'd been there for barely an hour. A distraction of any kind would suffice; Malachi bending over and throwing up all over him would be fine (Malachi would've at least acknowledged him), or if the book he held in his hand burst into flame, or . . .

Jocelyn ran into his room, curly red hair flying in all directions. A large grin split his face and found that she was the best distraction to busy himself with. "Jocelyn!" he leapt up from his bed eagerly and hurried to her. "I've been waiting for you for ages." Jocelyn's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he grabbed her arm and was out the door in seconds, pulling her in tow. "Thank the Angel you came by, I thought I was going to die from boredom." Luke exclaimed and took her by the shoulders, nearly shaking her.

Jocelyn, at first shocked, now smirked. "Was he talking about politics?"  
"Quite the contrary, actually." Luke said, following Jocelyn as she headed down the corridor to the staircase. "He hardly said anything to me. I think I would've prefered for him to say _anything_ rather than nothing."

"I guess that's true." Jocelyn shrugged. lithely gliding down the spiral stairs.

"So how have you and Madeleine faired?" Luke asked, realizing he hadn't spoken to said girl yet.

"We were confronted by Maryse earlier to ask us if we wanted to join some fan club for Valentine."

"What'd you say?" Luke frowned, remembering Valentine helping the little girl with her bag. He wasn't all bad. In fact, everything he did seemed to be the right thing.

"I told her that it was revolting and a waste of time." Jocelyn grinned, her lips thinning to reveal her white, straight teeth. "If you're worried that I'm going to slack off on your training, you shouldn't."

Luke groaned. "I was hoping maybe you'd forgotten it."

"It was this morning, so no, Luke I didn't forget, and yes, I'm aiming on training you to top notch perfection."

"Is that what we're doing right now?" Luke glanced warily at Jocelyn as they hit the ground floor.

"Oh no . . . well. I don't know exactly. It's more like . . ." Jocelyn bit her lip, her light eyebrows narrowing into a thin line. "It's an investigation." she finally decided.

"What are we investigating?"

She shrugged her narrow shoulders. "I don't know the _exact_ details . . ."

Luke rolled his eyes and sighed. "Why did I think this was a well thought out plan?"

Jocelyn grinned impishly as she opened the almost-black oak doors to outside. "I don't know why you'd ever have that inclination."

Luke jogged with Jocelyn past a large group of mundanes. They lounged on a large blanket, playing some kind of card game and laughing easily. Luke averted his eyes as the mundanes stared at the two pass. He recognized a few of the faces from years past, but knew hardly any of their names. He felt guilty not trying to befriend any of them the past 4 years, or manage to remember their faces even. Last year had been the most difficult to even exchange nods or any form of acknowledgement from the mundanes, their sullen glares stopping anyone's mouth. After someone had the idea to unleash a slimey explosion all over their living spaces, the tensions that were always present between the shadowhunter trainees and the dregs increased ten fold. Luke hadn't summoned enough courage to take a look at the basement since then.

Jocelyn jolted to a stop and Luke had just enough time to catch himself, nearly running her over. He grasped onto her shoulders, breathing heavily from the run. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing . . . I just," Jocelyn started to cautiously walk forward, staring at the tree line, 100 yards off. "I thought I saw what Madeleine was describing."

"What did she see?" Luke sent his best friend a worried look. "Tell me what's going on."

"I . . ." Jocelyn still had a far off look in her eyes and stared at the bushes, the light green leaves swaying lightly in the humid breeze. "Madeleine saw this movement in the trees twice at different times. I dared her to come with me and see what it was, but she refused. She tried to convince me that there's some Downworlder or other watching the school-"

" _What_?" Luke took a step backwards, his heart pounding now from fear, rather than exertion. He wasn't armed with gear or weapons or anything. Not that that would stop a werewolf from ripping his throat out. "Why didn't you tell the Dean!? If there-"

"I'm not going to tell the Dean because I don't know if it's a bunny rabbit or rogue werewolf." Jocelyn cut in, using logic for once. "It's more likely that whatever is moving the trees is some completely harmless woodland animal."

"You froze a minute ago when you saw it." Luke pointed out.

"That's because I wasn't sure if it was real or not until just now." Jocelyn objected, swiping away stray strands of hair in her eyes. "I thought Madeleine was making it up, and the fact that she didn't want to go made me think she was playing some kind practical joke on me."

"Madeleine doesn't prank." Luke rolled his eyes, deciding that he would drag her away if he had to. "You should know that. . . _come on_ , Joss, we really shouldn't be here."

"But . . . but it could just be a deer or squirrel . . ." she protested as Luke yanked her arm backwards, away from the edge of the forest.

"Then you're right. You don't have to see it to believe it." Luke agreed reassuringly, all the while watching the forest warily.

"But I want to see it!" Jocelyn struggled against him, twisting her wrists.

"Curiosity killed the cat!" Luke reminded her, giving up on her arms and wrapping his around her waist, locking his wrists and yanking her up the small hill to the school.

"But I've got to know. I need to know what's in there!" Jocelyn turned in his arms, mercilessly slapping his chest to free her.

"You haven't got any weapons!" Luke exclaimed, dragging her one more tug up the hill. They were now parallel with the school. "We can come back later with our weapons, alright?"

Jocelyn stopped her struggling and stared up at him, her green eyes studying him cautiously. "You mean it?"

"Yeah. I'm not letting you search in the forest by yourself, and I know you'll go even if I tell you not to." her eyes narrowed. "I promise." he finally said, "We can do it tonight, yeah?"

She seemed satisfied after that and nodded. "Fine. We'll go tonight."

Luke grinned, glad that the matter was settled. "You . . . uh . . . you can let go of me now." Jocelyn awkwardly shrugged away from the odd tackle-hug they were in and stepped away from him.

"Right." Luke started towards the school then, remaining in front of her so that the full blush in his cheeks would remain hidden.

* * *

Amatis was already in the library, and classes hadn't even started yet. She'd tucked herself into a corner by a stained glass window, the blue reflection of Lake Lyn sending different shades onto Amatis's book. There were many books around her filled with information of where the right place is to stab a Shax demon, or what silver jewelry was best to protect you from a werewolf, and so on. Currently, however, Amatis was reading a mundane book called "Frankenstein." She'd found it amusing that of all the things to wish for, the human desired to be eternal. But eventually in doing so, created a monster. She'd found it hard to sympathize with Victor so far, what with the dull language and how insane some of his thoughts were.

"You're reading Frankenstein, I see?" an accented voice interrupted her.

Amatis jerked and looked up, getting over how startled she felt and stared at the boy in front of her. She didn't recognize him at all, but he looked to be about her age. The boy was very tall with spiked blonde hair and strong features. He didn't wear any gear, but mundane clothes; tight blue jeans and a sleeveless, leather studded jacket. The only trait that did not distinguish him as a mundane was the voyance rune on his left hand. Of course, Amatis narrowed her eyes, the runes could've been drawn on with marker, and they looked pretty adolescent to her. It wouldn't be the first time a mundane student tried to pass off as a Shadowhunter . . .

He grinned toothily, which made Amatis look down at the page bashfully. "It's a good book." he continued, Amatis finally realizing he was British from the odd accent.

"It's getting along alright." Amatis straightened her posture and sat up from her lounging position. She forced herself to make conversation, especially if it was about a book. She could talk her brother's ear off about her readings if he let her. "The beginning was a bit dull."

"Agreed." the boy leaned on the edge of the table across from her. "I almost gave up on it the first time."

"I was going to, but I promised a friend I would read it first and then talk about it with her later."

"The ending is good. I especially liked when the monster comes on the wedding night-"

Amatis clamped her ears with her hands. "I don't want to hear anything!"

The boy smirked and stopped talking, Amatis releasing the muffler cautiously. She glared at him, which only made the boy smile even wider. "I hate knowing the ending."

"So you're one of _those_ readers." he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I am." Amatis replied resolutely. "I might as well not read a story if I know how it'll turn out."

He scoffed at her. "I find it much more interesting finding out _how_ it happened and what got the characters there. If I know who ends up with who, or that person was really related to the other guy . . . Well . . . you don't have any curiosity to know how it all happened?"

Amatis frowned. "I don't need to explain my reasoning to a stranger."

The boy's head swayed side to side, nodding grudgingly. "Stephen."

"What?"

"My name is Stephen Herondale." he shrugged.

"Oh." Amatis remembered countless stories of famous shadowhunters with the last name of Herondale.

"And now this is the part where you tell me your name." he smirked and Amatis connected his look with Billy Idol's.

Amatis felt no desire to introduce herself. After all, he had intruded on her quiet time, questioned her opinions, almost spoiled the book and he didn't even know her. "Your name doesn't mean anything terribly important to me, but this book definitely does. So, excuse me, but I prefer to read _alone_ in _quiet_ places."

Amatis watched him long enough for the boy's eyebrows to shoot up and an amused grin begin to curl his lips as he watched her before returning to her book. She could feel his blue eyes on her which forced Amatis to finally look up at him from her book, which confused her since she'd basically told him to scram. "Okay." and suddenly he was leaving, winking once at her before disappearing into the library.

Blinking rapidly, Amatis tried to return her focus back on her book and away from the odd boy. She'd gotten only a paragraph or two in when she heard a merry, british voice call out, "Frankenstein dies at the end!"

"By the Angel!" Amatis clenched the corners of the book tightly in a death grip and snapped the book shut. She leapt from her armchair and inspected the aisle perpendicular to hers for Stephen, frowning to see it deserted. Amatis returned to the chair, scowling and furious, and glared at the closed book. She had made guesses to the end but now it was completely ruined. She just _couldn't_ read it. Failing to compress her anger, Amatis hurled the book onto the floor, feeling satisfied when Frankenstein hurtled to the carpet with a loud CLUMP.

After staring at the book and the opened pages, Amatis looked out the window to distract herself, watching as a few trees shook along the edge of the forest. The swaying stopped just as soon as it had began, and Amatis's drifting attention was drawn elsewhere. Long gray clouds stretched across the blue sky and Amatis absentmindedly wondered if it would rain again that night.

It was some time that Amatis stared out the window, nothing changing other than the fewer and fewer students out on the lawn as the sky grew darker and threatened rain. Once the first streak of lightning cracked through the black, billowy clouds, rain began to spatter the stained window behind her. In minutes, the pouring rain was a dull roar and she relaxed into the chair. She'd been sitting there for a few hours, and Amatis didn't doubt that dinner would be served very soon, but she couldn't bring herself to care all that much. She wasn't hungry anyways. With each flash of lightning Amatis grew fascinated by the following boom of thunder, a telling tale that a billion bolts of electricity had struck down and hit something. Usually it was just trees, cracking them in half and frying the insides, ultimately killing the tree, but she wondered if any unfortunate someone would be hit in that storm.

Amatis frowned. The Monster in "Frankenstein" had been reanimated by lightning and wandered for weeks without clothing or shelter. As she glanced at the untouched book, still lying on the floor, more thunder rumbled outside. Shaking her head, Amatis carefully picked up the hardcover and left the library, heading for the cafeteria downstairs.

* * *

Jocelyn tapped her fork against the smooth, wooden table and waited impatiently for the teachers' introductions to end. It was particularly longer this year than usual as there were at least a dozen new additions to the staff. Other than the history teacher Andrew Lightwood and Kate Montclaire as the knife specialist, Jocelyn didn't recognize anyone else. In the front of the room, a dozen more staff replacements waited for their boring intro to be read.

Madeleine picked at her nails while Luke played around with an old paperclip from his pocket and twisted it into different formations. Jocelyn glanced over at a table nearest to them, filled with new, young shadowhunters. Most of them looked eager and listened intently to the speaker. A sickly looking girl had her head on the table, her blond hair hiding her face and her narrow shoulders. The next table over, however, couldn't have been more different, as they were all older and dozing off. Jocelyn smirked as she watched Madeleine's younger sister Aspen struggle to keep her eyes open. Calantha Freeman glared at the table top, her older gawky brother Charles sat next to her and occasionally sent a worried glance her way. The round wooden table in front of Jocelyn's was empty except for one seat, filled by a hawkish looking boy with large glasses that he kept pushing up the bridge of his nose.

" . . . Wrayburn will replace Haywood in the mundane and shadowhunter rune learning class. . ." Jocelyn blanked out once again, any interest lost again, once she heard a chair at their table scraping the floor. Eliza Rosewain tucked her short, poofy hair behind her ear and acknowledged Jocelyn with a small smile before leaning over to whisper with Madeleine. Dean Townsend droned on with introductions, which by that point, even the youngest of shadowhunters were looking idly around the room for something interesting to stare at. The chair beside Jocelyn scraped against the stone floor and she was surprised to see Amatis sit next to her. "Where've you been?"

Amatis whispered back, "I was in the library and got distracted is all. I'm fine." the older girl scanned the room, passing over the Shadowhunters quickly. "Not many dregs this year."

The back of the cafeteria was filled by one long rectangular table. It was a place reserved for the mundie trainees. Shadowhunters could sit there of course, but no one ever did. The starkest difference between the mundanes and the shadowhunters was how the trainees didn't even bother to fake attention to the Dean. Many chatted in low voices, while a few laughed and joked quite loudly.

Last year the table had been brimming with mundanes recruits, the benches squeezing more than it was made for. This year, Jocelyn was shocked to see that the table was a little over half full. "Townsend said the school limited the pool of recruits, but I didn't think it would cut it by nearly 50%."

Amatis only shrugged. "The Academy must've cut the weak ones out and kept the kids that actually have a chance of surviving the mortal cup."

"I guess." Jocelyn personally thought that frame of mind was a bit narrow, but the school must've done it for the safety of those who wouldn't have been able to handle it.

"Thank you for your avid attention." Dean Townsend narrowed his eyes at the back of the room. "You may eat!"

"About time." Madeleine grumbled, heading to the line already queuing up with female shadowhunters.

"Honestly, we don't need each teacher's entire biography told to us. I'm sure we'll get to know them soon enough since we all live here for the next nine months." Jocelyn added.

"The only one I was really impressed with was the new runes teacher."

"That's only because he's hot." Jocelyn rolled her eyes.

"True . . ." Madeleine smirked and added. "he also studied at the Mumbai Institute. How cool would that be?"

"I'd prefer to stay in Europe." Jocelyn shrugged. "Aren't the demons a bit different than here as well?"

"Isn't that a good reason to go, though? The farther you travel, the more you learn."

Jocelyn dished up mashed potatoes and tore a piece of pork onto her plate. Very carefully, she replied, "I just hope you don't go anywhere too foreign, because I'd have to come with you no matter what."

"What do you mean?"

Jocelyn sighed, wishing that she didn't have to blurt it out while they were surrounded by others. "I just mean that I won't be able to handle not being around you once we graduate and leave Academy."

Madeleine rolled her eyes. "Okay Joss, I'm sure you'll survive just fine."

They finished dishing up and sat down at their usual table. Amatis rejoined with a few friends at a different table, while Luke was already in line with the boys as they awaited the shadowhunter girls to finish serving themselves. So their table was empty as the two friends sat down. "I do want to finish our conversation later."

Madeleine's eyebrows furrowed. "About after Academy?"

"No . . . not that. I only mean about . . . well-"

"It's fine." Madeleine grinned easily at her. "I actually have something I want to tell you too."

"So tonight?"

"Tonight." Madeleine confirmed.

* * *

 **Next chapter we have a few OCs coming into the mix and the moving bush will be wrapping up soon. Personally I was really excited to add Eliza's POV for the first time; I really wish she was addressed more in the books! She'll have another POV coming round next chapter along with OCs Zal Monet, Lyle Adams and of course Jocelyn! Please review because they really do give me life and motivation! Shout out to Kisses on the Steps because what a babe**

 **-Laur**


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